


i won't cry for you

by sablespit



Category: Great Pretender (Anime)
Genre: Angst, M/M, huge death tw, makoto and laurent were lovers, makoto dies at the end oops, mental breakdowns, really fucking sad, short and not sweet, this is not a happy fic i am warning you, tw suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:28:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27753073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sablespit/pseuds/sablespit
Summary: makoto lives with the fact he's never seeing laurent again, until fate catches up to him.
Relationships: Edamura Makoto/Laurent Thierry
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50





	i won't cry for you

**Author's Note:**

> i kinda self projected onto makoto *whips and nae naes*

the coffee shop didn't have the same warmth and familiarity it used to.

makoto loved the place. it sounded silly, but he'd poured his heart into some of the coffee he made here. he'd made coffee here for people he'd cared about. people he didn't know anymore. they'd passed from him one way or another.

he guessed his coworkers had noticed something was up with him; he would've noticed, too. waking up in the morning from restless nights he'd look in the mirror, and he always had these dark circles under his eyes that wouldn't go away even no matter how much he willed them to. he didn't have the same "pep in his step"- that's what his boss had said. he found it ironic, considering his boss was the one on the edge of needing a cane to walk.

work wasn't fun anymore. making coffee wasn't fun anymore. serving it wasn't fun anymore, because each smile he saw on a customers face when he served it reminded makoto of him. _everything_ reminded makoto of him. he saw him everywhere, from the smiles on peoples faces to the back of a blonde passerby or a hawaiian shirt in a shop window. he couldn't even pay his fucking taxes without thinking of him, the rich bastard.

he thought of quitting his job; thought it often. he could barely hold himself together in public, and he felt all he did nowadays was slow people down. but he wouldn't have any way of paying rent, and despite the deep depression he'd fallen into he knew he had to at least keep his house. no reason he had to sleep on the streets. he could always go back to swindling for money, yeah, but he didn't have it in him. not anymore. he'd lost the knack for it. and... he knew laurent would be disappointed in him. not like he was around to judge.

so days drawled by in grey blurs. work, home, eat, sleep. over and over. most of the time makoto didn't see any purpose on continuing despite the fear of turning into nothing, if he hadn't already.

laurent was his reason to try. always stringing him along is his stupid fucking con games- makoto thought it annoying, sure, but it gave him purpose. laurent gave him purpose. laurent saw something in him other people didn't, and probably never would.

"makoto? your shifts up. workdays over."

sitting at the barstool, makoto looked up at his boss, hardly registering what he said to him. the only time in the recent months he ever talked to his boss was for instructions or to go home, and makoto could guess by the time on his watch it was time to go home.

heh. the watch. another bittersweet reminder. he hated looking at it; felt like the gold burnt his eyes, but he knew that wasn't possible. just his brain making things even more miserable for him.

he put his hand in his pocket, getting the watch away from his field of view. "right. see you, have a good night."

"makoto."

i don't want to talk anymore. leave me alone. "what?"

"have you.. considered talking to someone?"

like that would do any help. what a fucking idiot. "have a good night," he repeated, swinging the door open and letting himself out to begin the familiar walk home.

home. he was home. the familiar creak of the door as he stepped instead, the flickering as he turned on the lights. familiar, yes, but not comforting. too many things missing. the anticipation of waking up and wondering if he'd be dragged into some crazy con game was gone. the anticipation of hearing his lovers name on the other side of the phone was gone; he hadn't been able to sleep well without their nighttime calls, falling asleep with his partners soft laughs coming through from so, so far away. never as far away as he was now.

he didn't undress or brush his teeth. he flopped down onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling, exhaling. maybe his boss was right. maybe he should try talking to someone.

to... someone. not a therapist, no. a friend, maybe. someone he hadn't spoken to in a long time. he glanced over at his phone on the nightstand, grabbing it and going to his contacts, swiping though until he found someone he recognized.

his finger stopped at abbie. ... abbie. abbie wouldn't want to talk to him, would she? he laughed bitterly in the emptiness of his home. she wasn't the type. but maybe it didn't hurt to try. he'd been avoiding all contact with the rest of the team for some godforsaken reason, but he should at least try. that was the least he could do.

he touched her icon, clicking the phone button, holding it up to his ear as he waited for what seemed like forever, the phone ringing the only sound in the house except for the cheap air conditioning kicking to life.

the ringing stopped, and makoto felt his throat catch at the familiar voice that answered him. "who's this?"

had it really been so long she didn't remember his name? for all he remembered it'd only been around four months. maybe he really was that forgettable. he laughed bitterly. "wrong number, sorry. i'll ha-"

"makoto?"

"the one and only."

he heard silence, then "i didn't have your name as your contact."

"oh."

more silence. it took all makoto had to not hang up and block her number.

"did you need something?"

makoto laughed again- it wasn't a happy sound. "forgot you weren't one for smalltalk."

abbie seemed to ignore that, wanting to move on. "..it's been a bit."

"indeed it has."

"...listen, makoto," he heard a deep breath on the other side of the line. "i know you didn't call me just to chat. and if you called for what reason i'm thinking of, i'm not... i'm not up to discussing that."

"figured. it's fine. i didn't even know what i'd say about him, anyway." makoto was smiling despite himself. he didn't know what he'd expected, honestly. talk to you later, abbie." he wouldn't.

"wait, m-"

he hung up. blocked the number. sat the phone back on his bedside table. didn't really matter; she probably wouldn't be calling him back anyways. would've convinced herself it was best they didn't talk anymore- and maybe she would be right about that.

he was still smiling, but he felt his cheeks were wet. ah, yes. couldn't go to sleep without the nightly cry. fuck.

how could he forget.

he was laughing, laughing into the empty apartment, and before he knew it he was bawling his fucking eyes out while his laughs gradually turned into coughs and sniffles. he thought he would've gotten over his self misery by now, but apparently not. he curled over on his side, gripping onto the sheets on his bed, hiding his face in the soft linen. fuck, he wished it was him.

he missed the nights in bed they spent together. laurent's warm body against him, laurent's chest moving up and down when he snored, laurent's hands roaming all over his body and touching him in ways only he could. he missed his touch. he missed it so fucking bad. he gripped the sheets tighter, his body wracked with sobs, and stopped when he heard his phone ring.

he rolled over, staring at the contact. cynthia. he took his phone in his hand, staring as it rang.

he blocked her number, too.

\--

as one would have guessed, he didn't sleep well last night. his mind, even during the night, wasn't free from thinking about _him._ and in his dreams laurent was never himself; no, laurent wouldn't do anything dream-laurent did. real-laurent wouldn't tell him it was his fault he did, wouldn't tell him he'd better just give up already.

maybe dream-laurent was right, though.

\--

four days passed. once again, he was walking home from work. the same path he always took, diverted from people.

he thought.

so when he heard footsteps and chattering in the familiar path he took home, he felt the strangest sense of unease- sure, it could just be a couple of teenagers finding a new place to hang out, or whatever, but... but what? it wasn't like this pathway belonged to him. he didn't own it.

it was whatever. if he ignored the footsteps, they would probably be gone tomorrow.

they didn't go away. they just got closer. and soon enough, they were right behind him and there was a gun pressing against the back of his head. he almost laughed; this was the last thing he expected to encounter tonight.

"hand over your wallet and you live." it was a coarse but high pitched voice. the assailant was probably a dude barely in his twenties, maybe even younger. it was kinda sad.

whatever. "i'm not giving you my money."

"didn't you hear me? i said i'll shoot you." the voice grew irritated.

"no, you're not. you're not going to shoot me. too much of a mess to clean up." but makoto wasn't really that sure of himself. he turned around, staring down the barrel of the gun. "walk away."

the younger barked a laugh behind the mask they were wearing, no doubt leering at makoto from the way their eyes were squinting. "ok, yeah, sure. last chance. hand over the fucking money. toss it here, 'kay?"

makoto wasn't as scared as he'd like to be, but he still didn't want to lose his cash. he needed it for rent, and there was no way he was calling up his old companions begging for money after what he did last night. "ok. ok." he reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and holding it in front of him, not saying a word.

the attackers eyes gleamed, hand reaching out to snatch the wallet.

stupid.

makoto grabbed the mans hand, yanking him down and reaching for his other wrist to grab the gun.

.. it didn't work.

he felt a swift kick to his gut and barely any time to react before a shot rang out and a bullet lodged itself right into his stomach. oh. oh, fuck. he collapsed to the ground, groaning as he pressed his hand to the wound. the relief didn't last long before he heard another shot and suddenly a burst of pain spread through his lower stomach. he slammed his fist onto the concrete, breathing heavily. fuck, fuck, it hurt so fucking bad.

his wallet, did the fucker take his wallet? his eyes were blurry, but he could see the guy running the opposite way with his wallet in hand. fucker.

he collapsed back onto the ground, grunting in pain as his back hit the pavement and a sharp rock jabbed into his side. he could feel himself bleeding out, feeling the warmth of the blood pool around his skin. dizzily, he stared up at the sky, laughing hoarsely before he found laughing brought even more pain.

this wasn't a very heroic end, was it. rather pathetic, really. at least laurent had died in a final blaze of glory, rather than laying bleeding out on the way home from work. maybe this wasn't so bad. maybe, even though he didn't believe in heaven or hell or whatever that bullshit was, maybe he would get to see him again. it was a slim chance in his mind, but a sort of solace as he lay dying. it was getting harder to think, and at this point he wasn't doing anything to stop the bleeding. better to just let it happen; he didn't really have a way to stop it, anyway.

he smiled. since when did he become so pessimistic, huh? well. he knew when, and he knew how, he just didn't want to acknowledge it.

"hey, laurent... i'll see you soon, maybe." he whispered with the last of his strength, still smiling. he closed his eyes.

so with a final breath of fresh air, makoto let himself fade away, becoming nothing but a bloody corpse under the evening sky.

**Author's Note:**

> my bad  
> also yeah the title is a lyric from a lady gaga song


End file.
